


Coming Home

by tinzelda



Series: SH AU [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinzelda/pseuds/tinzelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Third and final part of the AU series. I was going to leave things up in the air, but I couldn't bear not to write the happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you once again to flying_android, who helped with all three parts of this AU, giving me detailed editing, fantastic ideas, and enthusiasm.

As she approached the front steps, Mrs. Hudson felt no small measure of anxiety. She never knew what she would find upon crossing the threshold of 221B Baker Street, and now she dreaded coming back after so long an absence—she had been visiting her sister’s family in Sydney since Christmas. Not to mention the fact that Mr. Holmes had been behaving so strangely the last time she had seen him before her trip—more so than usual. Every time she’d thought of it, it had made her a bit queasy.

After closing the front door, she stood in the entry, listening. There was silence. Slowly she climbed the stairs and knocked on the door of Mr. Holmes’s flat. When there was no answer, Mrs. Hudson let herself in. The sitting room was empty, and for a moment she was certain that Mr. Holmes had moved out without giving notice—never had she seen the place so tidy. But his computers and gadgets were still on the desk, his books still on the shelves.

She stood staring at the room, unable to believe her eyes, and was startled when a young man entered from the tiny kitchen. His attention was absorbed by the newspaper he held in front of his face with his left hand, and he sipped from a cup of tea held in his right. He wore only a pair of striped cotton pajama pants, hanging off his hips.

“Excuse me,” Mrs. Hudson said quietly.

The man dropped his newspaper but luckily managed to hold on to the teacup. Flustered, he bent to retrieve his paper, then stood and stared at her.

“I’m so sorry to have startled you,” she said. “I came to see Mr. Holmes.”

“Ah… Yes… He’s not here at the moment,” the young man stammered. He held the newspaper in front of his stomach, as if to hide behind it. _My, but he’s handsome_ , Mrs. Hudson thought as she hid a smile at his modesty.

“You must be Mrs. Hudson.” He put his cup down on the table and reached out. “John Watson.”

_He’s polite as well_. As they shook hands, Mrs. Hudson wondered how on earth had this young man had befriended Mr. Holmes. “Are you Mr. Holmes’s new flatmate?”

“Oh, no,” he answered. “We wouldn’t—I mean not without speaking to you first. I’m… I work nearby and was here rather late last night… Excuse me for a moment,” he said, and he slipped into the next room. When he returned he was wearing a white T-shirt over his pajama pants, and Mrs. Hudson didn’t think she was imagining that his cheeks were flushed.

“I could give Holmes a message for you.”

“Thank you, but there’s nothing specific. I simply like to… visit… Mr. Holmes every so often. Just to make sure everything is…”

He smiled and nodded, as if he understood exactly what Mrs. Hudson intended to say. He obviously knew Mr. Holmes very well. Mrs. Hudson felt something relax inside her and was surprised at herself—imagine, feeling protective of Mr. Holmes. “Pleased to have met you, Mr… I’m sorry. Mr. Watson, was it?”

“It’s Dr. Watson, actually,” he said, looking a bit embarrassed to be correcting her. “But please, call me John.”

_Handsome, polite, and a doctor._

“Really lovely meeting you. I’ll leave you to your tea.”

“Mrs. Hudson!” he said as she turned to the door. “I… I haven’t spoken to Holmes about it, but would it be all right with you if I were to move in? I’d like to start my own practice, you see, and living on my own, the savings account is growing very, very slowly.”

He was so very earnest that Mrs. Hudson again fought the urge to smile. “Dr. Watson,” she said. “I would be a very foolish landlady indeed if I were to refuse a tenant who could tame Mr. Holmes enough to keep my house as tidy as this.”

“I should probably also tell you that I have a dog.”

“I can’t imagine that will be a problem. I’m very fond of dogs.”

Dr. Watson smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.”

“I think you and I will get along just fine, Dr. Watson.”

At that moment the front door banged open, and they heard Holmes’s voice calling. “Watson?” His tread was quick on the stairs.

When he appeared in the doorway, he repeated Dr. Watson’s name, but rather than a shout, this time his voice was strangely soft. He didn’t sound at all like himself, and Mrs. Hudson looked at him in alarm. It was obvious he had no idea that she was in the room. His attention was all for Dr. Watson, and she had never seen such an expression on Mr. Holmes’s face—she couldn’t tell what to make of it. He stepped across the room to stand near Dr. Watson.

“Mrs. Hudson is here,” Dr. Watson said, and Mr. Holmes looked startled.

“Ah.” He turned and looked at her. “Hello.”

“Hello, Mr. Holmes,” she replied. “I was just on my way out. I’m glad to have met your friend.”

“Yes, well…” Mr. Holmes seemed at a loss for words. She was growing nervous again—Mr. Holmes was keeping something from her. She smiled and said goodbye, closing the door as she went.

She didn’t think there was anyone in the world who could blame her for listening at the door if they knew the messes Mr. Holmes had made in the past, the problems he had caused. She shook her head, remembering the time he had ripped out half the plaster in his rooms in an attempt to improve the electrical wiring.

This house was her only real asset, after all. She couldn’t have Mr. Holmes burning it down or blowing it up, and himself along with it. If she could prevent an accident with a little eavesdropping, she wasn’t going to be squeamish about it. But she heard nothing.

Then Dr. Watson spoke. “You didn’t tell me your landlady lets herself into your flat in the middle of the morning.”

“I didn’t know that she did,” Mr. Holmes answered. “The nosy old busybody.”

“Rubbish. She seemed like a perfectly lovely woman. It’s just that I’m in my pajamas.”

“What of it?”

“These are the ones you ripped the buttons off!”

“There’s a drawstring.”

“But they gape open.”

“What, do you mean like this?”

“Stop!” Dr. Watson said with a huff of laughter. After a few moments of silence, there was a long moan followed by a low intimate laugh from Mr. Holmes.

Mrs. Hudson’s hand flew to her mouth. She almost laughed aloud. Mr. Holmes wasn’t planning some catastrophic experiment or intending to destroy her walls, and that strange look on his face had nothing to do with his worrisome tendency to ingest and inject various illegal substances. Mr. Holmes was in love. She wondered when exactly he had met Dr. Watson. She was would be willing to bet it was just before she had left for Sydney, when she had noticed him acting so very strangely.

Mrs. Hudson smiled to herself. She intended to leave then but couldn’t resist listening for just a few moments more when she heard Mr. Holmes speak again.

“What did you and Mrs. Hudson say to one another?”

“God, Holmes,” Dr. Watson said, sounding distinctly breathless. “Not now…”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no…”

“Then tell me.”

“Holmes… Please.”

“No, not until you tell me. You have that look about you.”

“What look?”

“The one you get when you’re keeping a secret.”

“I don’t keep secrets.”

“Evidently. When you try, it’s written all over your face, which is precisely how I know you have something to tell me.”

There was an exasperated sigh, then Dr. Watson said, “I asked if she would mind if I moved into the flat.”

There was no sound for several long moments. Mrs. Hudson began to feel anxious for poor Dr. Watson. Why didn’t Mr. Holmes answer?

“You asked Mrs. Hudson?”

“Yes.”

“A hundred times I’ve asked you, and you tell _her_ before you tell me?”

“I wasn’t completely sure you were serious, but you were right—I am here all the time since I’ve started tagging along with you. I simply wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be a problem with your landlady. I—”

When Dr. Watson’s voice was interrupted, Mrs. Hudson knew it was truly time for her to leave. There were some things she would not care to overhear.

She tiptoed down the stairs, feeling pleased for Mr. Holmes and his Dr. Watson. She knew she needn’t worry any longer. Dr. Watson would look after Mr. Holmes. And never had she known a man who needed looking after more than Mr. Holmes.

The End


End file.
